Ahh, the Road. A place where magic happens. And what better place to start my epic journey than the place with magic in the name, Magic Mountain. BlackJack and his friends, The Instigator, Red Shirt, Sweets, and Klaus McKenzie all went to celebrate BlackJack’s 280th birthday, so I stowed away in BlackJack’s underwear suitcase (don’t ask).
While BlackJack and the gang were out gourging themselves on In And Out burgers and Carls Jr., I scoped out my new environment. The hotel was kind of a dump, but BlackJack’s not made of money (he needlessly keeps telling me). After a night of heavy drinking and even heavier eating, we hit Magic Mountain.
I wasn’t tall enough to ride any of the rides, but I snuck onto one: Goliath. I wish I hadn’t. While I normally enjoy hanging my head out BlackJack’s car window to feel the breeze rushing through my circuits, this was just insane. People do this to have fun? I, of course, shit all over the place. But BlackJack and his friends seemed to enjoy it (to varying degrees).
After that, I pretty much took it easy. The humans kept going, though. BlackJack was insane enough to ride some horror show called “Tatsu”, which, roughly translated, means “You’re an idiot to ride this terrifying pants-shitter”.
We finally headed back to the hotel to cower in various corners, silently weeping.
And then, the next day, The Association™ boarded the plane and headed back to Seattle.
My adventure was just beginning.